


Pick Your Battles

by CelesteFitzgerald



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Comedy, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 12:13:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: Paul and John have been flaunting their relationship a bit too much, so George and Ringo decide to separate them for a few hours to stop them from being so obnoxious. The plan doesn't go so well.





	Pick Your Battles

Paul sat on the couch with his arms crossed, pointedly avoiding looking at George. George, on the other hand, sat on the opposite end of the couch, working out some chords on his guitar as if everything was fine—as if his and Ringo’s actions were acceptable.

Narrowing his eyes even more, Paul let out a huge sigh.

“If you think that’s gonna convince me to let you see him again, you’re wrong,” George said, not even pausing in his guitar playing.

“That’s not what I was doing.”

It was exactly what Paul was doing. And he had a right to do so—George was being unreasonable. Out of nowhere, George and Ringo had decided that John and Paul were being too “annoying” with their relationship. But Paul didn’t see what the problem was. So what if John had been staying in Paul’s bedroom for the past three weeks? They kept the door closed, and they tried to keep their volume down. If George and Ringo happened to overhear…_things_, then that was their own problem.

Still, George and Ringo somehow thought it was okay to force the two of them to spend the day apart in an attempt to prevent them from being so “obnoxious.” Sure, when George or Ringo brought a girl over and snogged her on the couch it was fine, but when Paul snogged John in the same place it was obnoxious. And yeah, maybe he and John snogged way more often than George and Ringo did with their girls, but they _lived_ there, for Christ’s sake. They should be able to do what they want in their own home.

But yet, there Paul was, stuck on the couch with George while his boyfriend was trapped in Ringo’s bedroom as Ringo showed him some crappy photo album.

It was wildly unfair.

“Do you really have _this_ much of a problem with us?” Paul snapped.

George finally quit playing his guitar. “Of course not. It’s not a problem with _you_, it’s a problem with your lack of self-control.”

“’Lack of self-control?’ You mean when we were snogging this morning and you walked in on us? That’s never bothered you this much before.”

“John’s hand was in your pants,” George said, glaring at him.

“You said you weren’t going to be home for another hour!” Paul said. Under his breath, he added, “And I didn’t think you noticed that.”

“_Believe_ me, I wish I hadn’t,” George muttered.

Both boys looked away from each other, and the silence was broken after another minute when George returned to his guitar—but he soon stopped playing once again.

“Paul, look—I’m very happy for both of you—and Ringo is, too. It’s just…a _lot_ when we’re stuck staring at you two constantly being on top of each other,” George said.

Paul sighed. After the unfortunate events of the morning, he had to admit that George had a point—a very, very small point. “If I promise to tone it down a bit, will you and Ringo stop this stupid game of yours and just let us be together again?”

George waited for a moment and pursed his lips. “…Maybe in a few hours.”

“What? Oh, come on, George, do you really have that little faith in me—”

“_Paul!_”

George and Paul both jolted when they heard John’s voice screaming from down the hallway.

“John!” Paul called back, jumping halfway off the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“I miss you, Paulie.”

The swell of happiness that Paul felt almost distracted him enough to stop him from hearing George’s mutter of “are you fucking kidding me?”

“I miss you too, baby,” Paul yelled as George’s frown continued to grow.

“No matter how hard they try to keep us apart, they’ll never take my heart away from you.”

John sure could be a sappy romantic, and it never failed to make Paul smile. “I love you, Johnny,” Paul shouted.

“I love you, too,” John replied.

As wonderful as that made Paul feel, he didn’t have much time to revel in the moment. The sound of George letting out a constant stream of “fuck, fuck, fuck” with his head buried in his hands stole Paul’s attention.

Suddenly, George stood up. “You know what? Fuck this, this is so much worse.” He grabbed Paul’s arm, yanked him up, and started shoving him down the hallway. “Just shut up and go have sex, I don’t care anymore.”

Paul’s eyes widened. “That’s—wow, alright. Thank you, George.” He rushed down the hall to meet up with John after the longest thirteen minutes of his life. Then he paused and looked back at George, smirking. “But I can’t make any promises about shutting up—”

“God _damn_ it, Paul, just _go_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: saying ily from very far away.. basically shouting it.


End file.
